Character: Dean Winchester
Spoilers/Warnings: Rated T for naughty themes
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own him.
Every man has to have a secret, right?
Dean blushed as he stood in the middle of the unfamiliar bedroom, his discarded clothes piled in an untidy heap on the floor beside him.
When Rhonda had first dared him to do this, he’d hesitated. Was she mad? I mean, panties? Women’s panties? But hell, it had been nearly a month since he got laid and well, a guy has needs, right? If this is what it took, then, so be it.
The silky panties felt cool and fluttery against his skin, and the lace that they seemed to be smothered in itched like a freakin’ bitch. He fidgeted self-consciously, wincing as the elastic pinched his squirming butt-cheeks.
Speaking of squirming, Dean couldn’t believe the amount of rearranging he’d had to do to fit everything into the damn things, and they still felt like they were cutting something off. He’d be lucky if he COULD get laid after this.
But, Rhonda had dared him, and a dare was a dare, after all. These things felt weird and tight and slippery, and no doubt looked cissy and totally douchey and they were pink. PINK!
Dean couldn’t wait to take them off …
… and sneak them into his pocket when Rhonda wasn’t looking.